


What Life? I've Been Away

by MyBlueBooks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBlueBooks/pseuds/MyBlueBooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Baker Street? He isn't there anymore. It's been two years. He's got on with his life." Mycroft said. "What life? I've been away." Sherlock said when he returned because he never knew life had many surprises in store for him. ONE-SHOT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Life? I've Been Away

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one-shot. Hope you like it. Apologies in advance for my mistakes.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_"Baker Street? He isn't there anymore. It's been two years. He's got on with his life."_

_"What life? I've been away."_

What life?

It can be surprising. Life has many surprises in store for all of us, no matter how damn clever we are or if our name is Sherlock _bloody_ Holmes. Because the clever detective who managed to successfully fake his own death and convince the whole world he was dead returned with one simple idea fixed within his mind: return to John Watson's arms.

Three years. More than one thousand days. More than twenty six thousand two hundred and eighty hours. All that time lost... all that time he could have spent loving John Watson. But no. _He was dead._ To everyone, including John, he was dead.

But it was for the best. John, Mrs Hudson and even Lestrade were safe.

John.

John was safe.

He was alive.

However, when he returned, John was not expecting him with his arms open. John Watson was married and he was having a child soon. Baker Street was half emptied. And suddenly, all the things he thought he would have, were gone.

His John was gone.

Sherlock faked a smile and shook Mrs Watson's (née Morstan) hand and gave the reasons for his absence of three years. Everyone told Sherlock how happy John was since Mary has appeared in his life. Greg said he had never seen John so happy and so in love before. Mrs Hudson said Mary was lovely and the best person John could be with. And Sherlock thought t _hat's because he's not with me._

Life has so many surprises in store for us. And one day Sherlock had to nurse Mrs Watson when she went into labour and Mr Watson was working. Sherlock had to take her hand and witness the moment her baby came to the world. That baby was hers and John's.

When it should be his and John's.

John named his son Hamish.

The very same name they once dreamt of _together_.

The detective had to watch that little baby growing up into the boy he and John always dreamt of: a boy who liked science, rugby, Doctor Who, Jammie Dodgers and tea. The years passed and Hamish Watson said he wanted to be a detective like his uncle Sherlock.

And Sherlock closed his eyes and remembered something that had happened many years ago.

_"I want him to be a detective like you."_

_Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's bare chest and snuggled up close to him. "Hmm?"_

_"I want him to be a detective like you," John grinned. "Clever like his father."_

_"Really?"_

_John chuckled. "I want us to have a son. His name will be Hamish and he'll be a detective like you."_

"Uncle Sherlock?"

"Yes, Hamish?"

"Is it true you're dad's best friend?"

Sherlock felt the pain going through his heart. "He's my best friend."

He had to see the man he loved loving another person, Mary, not him. Sherlock was invited to dinners, birthday parties, family gatherings... and he had to see Mary holding John's hand, kissing his lips and being his wife. Occupying John's bed, being the owner of John's lips and John's body.

They never talked about them. About what they had. About the love they professed for each other. About the kisses and the long nights they spent loving each other. Sherlock never asked John if he still remembered his lips on his, his hands on his, his body pressed against his.

John never asked Sherlock why he never mentioned them.

Years passed and Sherlock watched his nephew Hamish growing up and becoming a man.

Years passed and Sherlock visited John's grave.

His faithful blogger died. Something about his heart said the doctors.

"I love you. I've always loved you," Sherlock said, his voice hoarse, his throat sore after crying. "I should have told you how much I loved you, John."

**The end.**


End file.
